


To Ensnare a Lion

by 1337Kitty (Fluff_and_stuff)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Cullen Rutherford has PTSD - Post-Tramatic Stress Disorder, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Game Dialogue, Game Spoilers, Inquisitor Sided with Mages, Internal Conflict, Love, Lyrium, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Nightmares, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sided with Mages, Skyhold, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, as canon as possible, canon events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluff_and_stuff/pseuds/1337Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen thought love was the last thing he needed in the midst of a war, but then he met Silvia Lavellan. Maker, she was a lovely woman. The way she smiled at him, and the fact she tried to help so many- everything about Silvia captivated him. But how in all of Thedas would the commander be able to tell her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silvia Lavellan and Cullen have a chess rematch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "main story" picks up around chapter 3.

Walking through the garden, the slender elven figure stopped and gazed at the stunning flowers. The Herald of Andraste, Silvia Lavellan, enjoyed time spent in the courtyard garden and visited as often as she could. Her auburn hair, worn in a high pony tail with two bangs framing the sides of her face, shone brightly in the morning sun.

"Inquisitor!" a familiar male voice called out.

"Commander Cullen?" she answered, turning toward him.

"I thought I might find you here. Care for a rematch?" the commander asked, motioning toward the chess board. Silvia did not fail to notice that Cullen's blonde hair was freshly styled, which gave off a sheen in the morning sun.

Grinning, she replied, "You're on."

The both of them sat down, and rearranged the pieces to their starting points. "It appears as if Sera was last to use the board," Silva stated, pointing at the king who was deliberately placed lying down on top of the queen.

"I believe so... the pawns are in the shape of a..." Cullen trailed off as he did not want to finish that sentence. Slightly embarrassed, he hastily ruining the outline while knocking some over in the process. Eventually, the pieces were set. Being on the white side of the board, Lavellan moved first.

"Last time we played we talked about my family. This time, let me ask about yours," Cullen remarked, moving his knight.

"Certainly, although I thought everyone knew everything about me. With Leliana's dossier and all," replied the Dalish elf, casually moving a pawn.

"That may be true, but I haven't read it... not all of it anyway. I was hoping you would tell me," he confessed, turning his gaze from the chessboard to met her curious stare.

"Of course," she replied as she moved her queen a few spaces before continuing, "I was raised by clan Lavellan. My mother died shortly after my birth, and my father died in a bandit attack."

"I'm sorry to hear. That must have been hard on you as a child," he solemnly responded, still not turning his attention to the chess board.

"It's quite alright. You're move," the elf reminded.

"Oh, right..." he muttered, moving the nearest pawn a space.

"It wasn't really. I was too young. The whole clan raised me, which was nice of them. But in turn, I found it hard to find real friends. For days at a time, I would go out into the forests and climb the highest trees," Silvia fondly remembered, putting one elbow on the board and resting her cheek on her hand. With her free hand, she moved a pawn, taking an enemy pawn off the board.

"Wasn't that dangerous?" laughed Cullen, not taking his eyes away from hers. Silvia smirked, letting out a small laugh.

"At times, it was. I didn't let that stop me, though. I became the master at sneaking out. I would study the animals- learn from them. They were my friends when I had none. Never once was I attacked by a wolf or a bear, but I soon learned that humans were the most dangerous thing I would encounter in those forests. It's your turn."

"So, how did you end up at the conclave?" Cullen asked, moving his knight which overtook a pawn.

"It's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?" softly questioning, Silvia Lavellan turned her attention to Cullen once more. She noticed he was leaning forward, not turning his attention away.

"Of course," he responded warmly.

"I'm on night guard with this elf named Kyllen. He's the storyteller's son. Kyllen starts a conversation about Maker knows what. By the end of the night, we are laughing so hard the keeper yelled at us for not giving anyone's a moment's sleep. Needless to say we both volunteered for the night watch the next night, just to piss them off. But it was so fun," reminiscing, she absentmindedly moved a piece, seemingly chosen at random.

"By this time in my life, I had received many pelts as gifts from fellow clansmen who wanted to marry, as was the custom. I rejected all of them, for I did not know them or wish to know them. Kyllen became a fast friend, and better yet, did not try to give me anything. One day, we are out scouting and we stumble upon this giant black wolf, ensnared in a claw trap. I'll never forget those piercing brown eyes. The poor beast had been there for days. Without much hesitation, Kyllen undid the snare and the wolf limped free into the forest, never looking back." Silvia paused, gazing down at the chess board, and moved the king a space. She knew that move was totally useless, but she had lost track of whose turn it was. The Inquisitor, shifting her attention to the Commander, noticed his mirth-filled smirk widening into a smile as he moved a castle next to her pawn. Silvia smiled at the sight, noticing the way his eyes softened, how Cullen's smile tugged the scar that ran from his cheek to at his top lip, how he leaned forward every time it was his turn.

"The animal could have easily turned either of you. Why did he risk letting it go? ," eagerly asking, Cullen

  
"I asked him the same question at the time," Silvia replied calmly, leaning back in the chair before continuing, "Kyllen told me any elf with a bow or a blade can give the gift of death. I have given this wolf the gift of life, which is also my gift to you."

"It sounds like you two were... close..." the commander responded, voice sounding almost disappointed.

"I wouldn't say close. Friends, yes. I'm sure if time went on, who knows. Honestly, I never had a chance to consider it. I heard some fighting nearby, we set out to investigate. Then, as the two of us neared the source of the commotion, I was struck by lighting. I could only watch helplessly as Kyllen was struck down by the blade of a templar. We were caught in the middle of the civil war- between a templar and a mage. The templar was about to strike me too when the mage protected me. I tried to help Kyllen, but it was too late. Kyllen was gone. He helped me carry my friend back to the clan, but that mage left before I ever learned name," the Herald stated, trailing off as if lost in thought.

"I-I don't know what to say."

"It's quite alright. Before that, there were talks about who would venture to the conclave. None volunteered. After Kyllen... I volunteered. I slipped away that night, without a word. I knew that no matter what awaited me at the conclave, most likely I would not go back to the Dalish life," the elf explained, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, her eyes trailing into the distance.

"You've been through so much between what happened before the conclave and Haven. A lesser person would not have survived..."

"We've all had hard times. I'm just glad to be alive, here, with you- I mean- losing this game," Silvia stammered, trying to hide her blushing by putting a hand on her cheek.

The commander laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Losing? How so?"

Swiftly, Silvia snatched the black queen and moved it beside her white king. "Oh, would you look at that. You win. I guess we will have to play again sometime..." she beamed, laughing.

Cullen heartily laughed, then replied softly, "I would love to." A silence befell them for a moment, neither of saying a word. His amber eyes, warm and soft, caused her cheeks to warm.

"I, uh, should let you return to your... um... duties," the commander stammered, resetting the chess pieces.

"Y-yes, you're probably right," Silvia responded, helping him reset the board for the next players.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always looking for ways to improve my work. Constructive critiquing is appreciated.


	2. Moonlit Truths

Moonlight beamed through the massive hole in the corner of the ceiling in Cullen's room. Part of the roof had begun to cave with age, as well as decay. Although Skyhold was nearly repaired, he left his make-shift skylight alone. It wasn't directly over his bed, plus a tree branch helped shield the interior from the weather. The commander lay on his back in his bed gazing up at the sky. A sharp pain behind his eyes, restlessness, uncontrollable shaking- all were effects of lyrium withdrawal. There would be no sleeping tonight, he knew. **THUD!** There was a pause. **THUD!** It sounded again. Sitting up at once, he peered around his chamber. Oddly, the sound was resonating from the roof.

"Anyone there?" Cullen, not expecting a reply, called out weakly. ' _The noise probably came from some animal..._ ' he reasoned.

"Oh! Sorry! I slipped," answered a female voice.

"Lady Inquisitor? Are you on the roof?" he called up to her.

"Um... yes. I'll meet you in your office. I can explain," Silvia called back, her footsteps echoing away. Dressing in a hurry, Commander Cullen hastily secured his armor breast plate, furry cloak, breeches, and boots. He climbed down to his office as fast as he could manage, although she had beaten him there. The inquisitor, leaning against his desk, gazed out the small window. The moonlight, the sole light in the room, lit up her face in a pale glow.

"Commander, I'm so sorry to disturb your rest," she apologized earnestly, turning her attention to him.

"It's quite alright. Is anything wrong? Why were you on the roof?" Cullen worried.

"No-no! Nothing is amiss!" Silva stammered, letting out a deep sigh before continuing, "I've gone to the roof a few times. You are aware of the tree nearby, right? I use that to climb down."

"You leave Skyhold? By yourself?" the commander questioned, frowning with worry.

"Yes, but I do not stray far. I can show you, if you like... but you don't have to-"

"I would be more than happy to accompany you. I'd prefer you not go alone," he interrupted, heading toward the door without hesitation. Silvia Lavellan followed him, stunned into silence by his unexpected reply. She was expecting the commander to scold her for being awake at this hour or shoo her away. Outside, she approached the side of the battlements toward the wall of Cullen's office. Swiftly, the elf scaled the stone effortlessly- seemingly all in one motion. Never once did the rogue elf falter in her assent up the tower. A few pieces of mortar trickled down as she climbed, clinking on the stone of the battlements. Cullen stood with his mouth agape.

"Um... I can't..." Cullen uttered, scratching the back of his head. Silvia peeked over the side. "Go to your chambers. I have a rope!" she called down to him.

He made his way to the roof, pulling himself up with the rope Silvia had provided. She did not fail to notice that he had brought his sword. Cullen took a moment to catch his breath. "Follow me carefully," smiling as she spoke, Silvia moved to the nearby tree limb. The branch was strong and held her weight without bending as she, cautiously keeping her body low, slunk across. Giggling, she held out her hand. Cullen took hold, creeping along with one hand on the limb.

"That's... quite a ways down..." the general murmured.

"It's okay, I've got you," she reassured, squeezing his hand as he made his way. I know she can't possibly prevent my fall if I lose my footing... But Cullen relaxed at her reassuring touch. When the ex-templar reached the trunk, Silvia released his hand. "It is easier from here on," the Inquisitor stated as she stepped onto a lower branch.

"Let go! It's not that far," Silvia called up to him from the base of the tree. Hanging, Commander Cullen dangled from the last branch. _Maker's breath, Why did I agree to this?_ The commander questioned as he closed his eyes and loosened his grip. Landing with uneven footing, he stumbled backwards into Lavellan, dragging them both to the ground.

"Lady Inquisitor! Are you-" Cullen began but was cut off.

"Haha! That wasn't so hard, was it?" Silvia laughed. Cullen arose and helped the Inquisitor to her feet. The full moon's light fell over them, bathing them in the white glow. They were in a small clearing that sloped down slightly. In the clearing, a sea of tall grasses waved softly in the night breeze, which smelled faintly of wildflowers.

He followed Silvia through the field to a small creek, dotted with a few pine trees. "Well, this is it," she announced, sitting on a giant boulder that was partially embedded in the earth.

"Do you come to this place frequently?" the commander inquired, leaning against a tree.

"Only when I desire to forget my troubles for a while," she responded, laying down on the slab to gaze at the sky. Cullen, realizing the stabbing pain behind his eyes was intensifying, kneel down beside the creek. Cupping his hands, he brought the brisk water to his face. With this, the pain eased, and Cullen regained the ability to focus. Silence fell over them, with the single sound being of the rushing brook water.

"Um... what troubles you, if you don't mind my asking?" he inquired cautiously, not sure if he was intruding. Leisurely, Silvia sat up, meeting Cullen's gaze with a solemn expression.

The elf turned her attention towards a pebble on ground as she spoke, "If I were to say, I fear you may think ill of me."

"I view you in only the highest regards. I doubt anything would change that," the human male earnestly stated, taking a step toward her. Silvia Lavellan glanced up at him, biting her lip.

"The day I spoke about when I left for the conclave, I may not have been entirely truthful. And for that, I am truly sorry. It is a memory that haunts me- hurts me- even now," the female elf's eyes met Cullen's as she spoke, studying his expression for a sign of disdain, but she was only met with sympathy.

"I understand how you must feel. If you do not wish to talk about it, I won't press the matter."

"I wanted nothing more than to hide my pain- to forget all that had transpired. I cannot hide the past forever. You, of all people, deserve the truth," Silvia continued, her voice shaking, "In the forest that day-the day we found the wolf- we ventured further into the woods. We heard fighting in the distance. Kyllen wanted to turn back, but I continued on." Lavellan, taking a deep breath to compose herself, clenched her fists then stretched them out again.

"Kyllen followed me, of course, yelling that the both of us should return home. I disregarded him entirely. When the two of us reached the timberline, we discovered an immense battleground- between countless mages and templars. That's when the lighting struck me and blade ran through him- through Kyllen..." she paused for a moment, trying to hide her face by turning away. "I held him as he died. Kyllen's last words were 'I regret having ever met you, asha'harellan lath'din'-which means traitor woman no one loves," the elf choked out, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know why he thought that... that... maybe Kyllen thought I would lead a templar or mage group to the clan... or maybe he said the most hateful words he could think of before he..." Cullen approached the trembling elf and rested a hand on her shoulder. Silvia stood motionless, trying to quell the shaking, and then turned around slowly.

The commander spoke gravely, his voice a whisper, "Words cannot begin to express how sorry I am that happened." Swiftly, and without warning, she took a step forward, burying her head in his fur lining of his cloak. Cullen, out of shock, stiffened for an instant.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" the Herald, realizing what she was doing, attempted to pull back, but the commander then gently enveloped her in his arms. She buried her face into Cullen's cloak, gripping the fur between her fingers, and felt the comforting warmth from his body.

"None of it is true- the words Kyllen said, the... thing he called you... you know that, right?" he questioned warmly.

"It upsets me so because, in the back of my mind, I fear it might be," she answered, voice wavering as she continued, "My father and mother were from an alienage. Even though the Dalish took them in, they never were truly accepted. When they passed away, I suppose I inherited their distrust, and I knew it. I dreamed of leaving that life, and that is enough to be branded a traitor. I found out later, at camp, Kyllen was tasked by the keeper to make sure I stayed. He did not care for me."

"I cannot change what happened. I wish I could. What that elf said, I believe, is still not true. Why would the keeper want you to stay if he did not care? And there are people who care for you here- care about you," Cullen insisted, tightening his embrace. After several moments in silence, the trembling subsided. Silvia lifted her head, stepping back slightly to meet his gaze. Silvia's emerald eyes glistened in the pale glow of the moon, and tear-stained face gave way to a faint smile. And, for an instant, there was nothing in the world Cullen wanted more than to bring her soft pink lips to meet his. He promptly turned his attention to a small pebble on the ground and ran one hand through his hair.

"I-" was all he managed to say as she parted, walking to the creek bed. The Inquisitor bent down, washing her face.

The lady Inquisitor stood up, motioning with her hand for him to follow her as they made their way back to Skyhold. "I'm relieved. I've never told anyone what had happened. What you said... means a great deal to me. Thank you," she replied, a smile forming on her reddened face.

"You can talk to me anytime you like," the commander said, catching himself as he said a phrase all too familiar to someone he cared about long ago. The thought stung his memory, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Her goodbye was all too brief, and then she made her way to her bedchambers. He lay back down, head swimming with thoughts of her. And with a smirk on his lips, Cullen fell swiftly into a quiet sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything seems calm now but a storm is brewing...


	3. Lyrium Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a fight opens old wounds

Branches scrape against his face as he scrambles past. Fighting is useless against the creature! Cullen was only able to make out the trees a few feet in front of him in the dim forest. The trees continued to crash behind him, growing closer. It was closing the distance. There! In sight was a break in the trees. As he ran through the last of the brush, Cullen skidded to a stop, loosing grip on the ground-kicking up a small cloud of dust as he waved his arms wildly. At his feet was a rocky ledge of a cliff, the turbulent ocean waters below were a black abyss. A guttural roar bellowed from the forest, causing the trees to quiver and the earth to shake. The blonde man turned to face the threat- gleaming sapphire eyes surfaced from the treeline. A wave of terror washed over Cullen. A lumbering beast, with long fur that was wisping smoke in the salty ocean breeze, crept towards him. "Leave me!" he cried, but the creature roared in defiance a rumbling bellow, drowning Cullen out. It's stare bore into his brain, and the thing's mouth opened reveling a set of pearly teeth. Cullen let out one final cry as the undefinable creature's open maul sunk it's teeth into the tender flesh of his neck.

_...No escaping..._

The commander shot up, gripping the sheets with balled fists. He glanced about, peering wildly around the bedroom. Cullen breathed a sigh, running a hand over his face and through his disheveled hair. To his touch, Cullen's skin felt icy even with the warm morning sun peeking through the window and coming to rest on his pale body. A dull ache behind his right eye signaled the onset of a lyrium-withdrawal headache.

"Commander, Ser? You're presence is requested in the War Room. The meeting is about to begin," a male scout called up to him.

"Thank you. I will be down in a moment," he mumbled back, barely audible for the scout to hear.

A low groan from the door signified his departure. With a thump, Cullen fell back in the bed- savoring the last moments on the soft cotton pillow and linen sheets.

**'.'.'**

With some effort the heavy wooden doors budged open, greeting the general with a whine from the hinges.

"Perfect timing, Commander," Josiphine stated, the Antivan's wavy black hair formed a neat bun at the base of her skull.

"We were about to start without you," chided Leliana, her short red hair a contrast against the violet cowl and leather armor.

"I'm here now..." grumbled Cullen, massaging his temples. The lyrium headache is back. The Inquisitor, studying the map, glanced up from the table.

"What is this, here?" she pointed to a small silver pin stuck in the map, only a few inches from Skyhold.

"Oh, that," Leliana answered, "My scouts report a small pocket of mages. I have not risked contact as of yet, and there is no clue as to why they have set up camp so close."

"Mages of any sort are not to be taken lightly. I can make contact, if you wish," Cullen offered.

"Are you sure that's wise? We should not provoke the mages either," Josiphine questioned, not turning her attention away from scribbling on the parchment.

Crossing his arms, the commander retorted, "I never said provoke. If we send anyone unprepared, they could be killed- or worse! We have no clue what these mages are doing, or what they are capable of."

"I agree," the Elven Inquisitor agreed, turning toward the commander and continued, " I trust you will take the necessary precautions. I shall leave it up to you."

"Thank you, Inquisitor. I shall leave at once."

**'.'.'**

As Cullen approached the outcropping of rock, a gently breeze rolled past, bringing a pleasant cool touch to his face. With the commander were four ex-templars, each falling in line behind him. The afternoon light bathed the surrounding fields in gold. Five figures, features concealed by the shadows of the cave entrance, hovered over smoldering ashes of a campfire.

A rumbling growl pierced the silence. "Hold, men. Something feels wrong here," the commander barked. One by one, the figures arose to their feet and turned. A deafening, shrill shriek resounded from the cave. One of the humanoid figures lunged forward, towards the small battalion, swiftly followed by the other four. The once concealed figure had the appearance something that used to be human, but contorted and disfigured beyond recognition. Pulsating growths covered all of it's form, including where the mouth would be located. One eye and a small tuft of hair was all that was recognizably human. Grotesque claws slashed the air ferociously as it charged.

"Abominations!" Cullen shouted, drawing his sword. His unit barely had time to draw their swords before the demons were upon them. One lunged at the commander as it angrily shrieked. Dodging to the side, the ex-templar avoided the attack with ease. THUD! A blow from the side sent him skidding into the ground, knocking the wind out of him. One of his men had been thrown into him by one of the abominations. The demon he was fighting approached, letting out a satisfied growl as his dagger-like hands lashed out, gripping Cullen by the throat. The abomination hoisted him to eye level, Cullen's legs dangling off the ground. The abomination's claws scraped the back of his neck painfully as the monster increased its grip, cutting off Cullen's breath. It was in that moment time slowed- A paralyzing fear washed over him as the memories of the damned Ferelden Circle came flooding back.

**'.'.'**

Echoes of screams rang throughout the halls as he sprinted up to a fallen templar.

"What's happened?" Cullen cried out, kneeling beside the dying man, dark blood smeared onto his silver armor.

"...the circle is lost... run..." the blood-soaked templar shuddered his last breath, partially closing his eyes. Cullen rose to his feet, growling in indignation at the loss of his comrade. A male mage scrambled past, stumbling in front of the blonde templar. Cullen dragged the mage to his feet by collar of his robes.

"What is happening?!" the templar urgently asked, having to raise his voice over an echoing fireball explosion.

"It's Uldred! And blood mages! Taking everyone... killing everyone!" the mage exclaimed, wriggling out of Cullen's grip and sprinting down a corridor.

"Blood magic...?!" he muttered under his breath, turning to the hall. Three abominations appeared one by one from a nearby room. Charging forward, he cut down the monsters. Rage demons, abominations, whatever blocked his path. His sword flashed with every swing in the dim light. Several bodies of mages and abominations scattered the tower floor as he continued. One, thought, caught his attention. Helena...no! Cullen's stomach tightened, feeling immediately ill, and his body grew numb. He scrambled up to her body, dropping to his knees. Picking her up off the cobblestone floor, the templar pulled the female mage into his lap. Helen's blue eyes were vacant, her skin pale and cold. Cullen felt for a pulse. Nothing. He put his hand to her face to feel for any faint breaths. Nothing. No, Maker! Please! Helena's lips, once the color of a blooming rose, was now white. Anyone but her! Helena's laugh, her smile, her enthralling stories- were all things Cullen found captivating about her, even though she was a mage. Because of this, Cullen could never tell her- or anyone- of his infatuation.

"Filthy templar dog!" screeched a female voice as he was struck with lightning spell, causing him to drop Helena. The templar slid across the floor, hitting the wall with a heavy clunk. "Uldred is going to have fun with you," the voice cooed as Cullen's mind fell into unconsciousness.

**'.'.'**

Off in the distance, Cullen thought he saw the beast from his dream. The black beast, with its fur of smoke, staring with those burning sapphire eyes. It wants me to die! The sounds of shouting and swishing of swords grew dimmer, as if the world was growing distant. Vision was failing.

As his consciousness was fading, Cullen felt an immense weight in his hand- the sword! Using every ounce of remaining strength, Cullen raised his blade, sinking it into the belly of the abomination. Writhing in agony, the monster released him. Cullen stumbled forward, falling on his hands as he regained blood flow. A soldier swung at the injured abomination. The monster's head flew off its shoulders with the clean motion, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

"Commander, are you alright?" the man asked, approaching Cullen. The last of the abominations had fallen.

"Fine!" the ex-templar huffed, standing up and breathing deep before continuing, "Good work, men. Let us report back."

Cullen's unit was full of 'congratulations' and 'well done'. Only the commander remained silent, boots scuffing the soft dirt as he walked. The ever present pain was growing behind his eyes, but that was not his concern. _I was helpless against it. These memories haunt me still! With Lyrium, I could have taken down that thing! I could have-_ Interrupted by a pain that stabbed him in the chest stronger than any blade, he doubled over- making a pained cry.

"Commander?" a soldier called, looking back at Cullen. Gritting his teeth through the pain, the general forced himself upright.

"I am alright. I-," he muttered, breathing in sharply.

_I need to find Cassandra..._


	4. A Familiar Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lyrium addiction takes its toll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little short. Might add to it later.

Standing in front of the wooden door to the forge, Cullen hesitated. He could hear the timed clunk of a hammer on steel. Gathering his courage, the blonde ex-templar swung the door open and stepped inside, carefully shutting the door behind him.

  
"We need to talk."

  
**CLINK!** Cassandra slammed the hammer into the steel blade a final time, glancing up at her visitor.

  
"Commander?" the seeker laid the hammer on the anvil and the heated blade to rest in a barrel of water, causing the water to sizzle and steam.

Cullen inhaled a deep breath and exhaled,"I want you to... recommend a replacement for me."

  
"And why would we require one?" the woman scoffed.

  
"The Inquisition would be better led by someone else. I cannot do this-this pain-I cannot endure."

  
"You can, Cullen. This army- the Inquisition- needs you. A replacement is not necessary," she declared pursing her lips.

  
"That is a lie! I can function as commander no longer! " Cullen proclaimed as he rubbed his pounding temples. The headache was worsening, and this conversation wasn't helping.

  
"You are strong, Commander. No one else is equipped to lead this army but you. You've asked for my opinion, and I have given it. Why would you expect it to change?!" Cassandra sneered, crossing her arms.

  
Cullen shook his head. "I expect you to keep your word. It's relentless! I can't-"

  
"You give yourself too little credit."

  
"If I am unable to fulfill the vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit-" Cullen stopped short at the soft squeak of the door opening. Inquisitor Silvia Lavellan entered the threshold. Immediately taking his leave at the intrusion, Cullen walked towards the exit.

  
"Forgive me," he muttered bowing his head as he brushed past, refusing to meet the Inquisitor's curious stare. The door closed behind him with soft thud.

  
"And people say I'm stubborn. This is ridiculous!" Cassandra complained, making sure to raise her voice in case the commander was within earshot.

  
"What was that about?"

  
"You're aware the commander no longer takes lyrium, correct?" Cassandra questioned, softening her expression.

  
Silva nodded. "Yes, and I think it's brave, and I respect his decision."

  
"As do I, not that he's willing to listen," uncrossing her arms, the seeker continued, "Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused. It is not necessary. Besides, that would destroy him. He's come so far..."

  
"Is there anything we can do to change his mind?"

  
"If anyone could, it would be you, Inquisitor. Mages have made their suffering known but templars never have," Cassandra explained, turning her gaze toward the crackling forge fire, "They are bound to the order, mind and soul- with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash- to prove to himself and anyone who follows suit that it's possible. He can do this! I knew that when we met at Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now is the time." The seeker sauntered to the back of the forge and plucked her sword from the bucket.

  
Inquisitor Silvia left the forge. Ambling towards the Cullen's office, she tilted her head to the sky. The golden afternoon sun caused her skin to tingle with warmth. _During the day, the Commander reports to me stating guard rotations, requisitions, supply reserves, and armory needs. The Inquisition would suffer without him, that's a fact he knows. I would hate to lose him. Anyone else would be... not the same. Ha, I've spent more hours thinking about him than I have myself. Please stay, Commander, because I can't stop thinking about you?_ She chuckled at the thought as she climbed the battlement stairs.

  
Cullen pulled the wooden box containing the lyrium kit from the drawer. The lid squeaked open, his fingers brushing over the carving of Andraste on the inside. Cullen's narrow, unrelenting stare studied the swirling blue liquid within the vial that taunted him. It was as if he was staring into the face of a Lyrium monster- a monster that offered sweet relief in exchange for eternal servitude. His body ached to feel the familiar numbness spread through his veins- through his mind. A sharp stab of pain in his gut caused Cullen's hands to tighten around corners of the wooden container. He winced. _If I take it, then the pain would subside... these accursed memories would leave me... if I could just-_ Another sharp pain stabbing him under his left rib disrupted his thoughts. I do not want to be that person again- the person at Kirkwall... Ferelden... Memories surged through his mind before he could push them away.

  
**'.'.'**

  
The young templar paced around his blue prison, a small magical force field.

"Hello, dear friend," a male greeted, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Cullen whipped his head up to find a pale hooded mage on the outside of the force field bubble. With him was one other, burlap sack on their head and hands tied.

"If you are going to kill me, then do it! What is the point in all this?" Cullen hoarsely yelled, voice breaking.

"Where would the fun be in that?" the mage laughed, "Beg."

The templar clenched his fists, knuckles turning white under his gauntlets.

"No?" the mage pulled the sack hood off the nearest figure.

"Mia?" he gasped, knees buckling to the frigid, stone floor. His sister stared at him unblinkingly, tears shimmering down her cheeks

"Why did you abandon us to this fate?" Mia asked, voice wavering in between labored breaths.

"N-No! I didn't!" Cullen threw his palms flat on the ground, bowing his head between his hands. "Please, mage, release them! I beg you! I'm sorry. I am so sorry! Kill me, torture me, do what you like... just please let them live!"

"Ah, was that so hard?" the mage gave tight-lipped smile, "Unfortunately, I should not have to ask twice."

The magic caster held his hands in front of him- casting from his palms a brilliant flame that engulfed Mia entirely. Her shrill screams of agony echoed throughout the chamber, enveloping him. Gritting his teeth, Cullen charged toward the mage. When his body touched the blue wall, a sudden flow of electricity coursed through his body. The templar's writhing body skidded to the ground. His armor caused a sharp scrapping noise to reverberate in the chamber. When Cullen came to, he was on the stone floor. His muscles still twitching from the shock, the templar hastily glanced around the room, the screams still ringing in his ears. There was no fire, no smoke, or even ashes. The mage had disappeared as well. _None of it was real... They are going to break me... They are going to kill my mind before they kill me..._ That was the first of many times that night Cullen was forced to watch people he cared about die in front of him.

  
**'.'.'**

  
Cullen felt rage bubbling up inside him, burning his face. Bellowing a roar in frustration, he clasped the lyrium kit, slinging it as hard as he could manage. The Inquisitor ducked as the box sailed inches from her face, and crashed into the door. The stone walls echoed his cry as the wood and glass shrapnel clattered to the floor.

  
"Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter! I-" he panted, eyes wide in horror at what he'd nearly done. He paused. "Forgive me..." breathed Cullen, his amber eyes turning away from Silvia.

"Cullen, if you need to talk-"

  
"You don't have to-" One more painful stab to his ribs caused his knees to buckle. Cullen's hand braced against the corner of the desk as he caught himself. The Inquisitor edged closer to the commander. He weakly waved her away, remaining stooped over the desk. "I never meant for this to interfere."

  
"Are you going to be alright?" Tilting her head, the elf leaned her hip on the opposite corner of the desk. He glanced up at the question.

  
"Yes," Cullen paused for a beat, then shook his head, "I don't know." The commander regained his posture, lifting his gaze towards the Inquisitor, a scowl marring his face. "You asked what happened to Ferelden’s Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars—my friends—were slaughtered." The ex-templar turned to the window behind him, allowing the rays of sun to warm his chilled skin. "I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I—how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what, hm? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

  
_I do see, Cullen! Why can't you see that I understand._

  
"Cullen, of course I can. I—"

  
"Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done," the commander paced from the window to the bookshelf along the wall, " I thought this would be better—that I would regain some control over my life, but these thoughts won’t leave me…" he growled in frustration, holding his head in his trembling hands for a moment.

  
“How many lives depend on our success?” he continued pacing by Silvia, ignoring her presence, “I swore myself to this cause…I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!” Cullen's clenched fist slammed into the bookshelf, sending a couple books and papers toppling to the floor in a heap.

  
“I should be taking it," he echoed, voice hoarse and raspy. Silvia shook her head, taking a step towards the commander.

  
_No, you shouldn't be taking it. Lyrium is practically poison to anyone but mages._

  
"This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?” her tone was soft, but firm. Cullen breathed a sigh of exhaustion, exhaling long and slow.

  
“No," the commander softened, unclenching his fist that still rested on the shelf of the bookcase.

Cullen turned to face her, taking a few small steps. They were a few inches apart. The ex-templar's eyes remained closed for a moment, then opened to lock onto hers. His scowl had given way to a reveal a subtle helplessness. "But these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this-”

  
“Don't give up. You can,” declared Silvia, bringing a hand to lay against his armor breast plate, over his heart, and held it there. The commander sighed again, but this time it was because he had been holding his breath. The inquisitor's words, her touch, and her confidence in his ability to overcome had eased the building tension in his mind.

  
"Alright," Cullen agreed, the word causing a smile to spread on Silvia's lips as she turned and left. The commander brought a hand up to massage the tense muscles on the back of his neck. His gaze traveled from the books in the floor to the broken box shards.

_Maker, what a mess I've made..._


	5. Protecting Clan Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is thrown into the battlefield again as he must protect the Dalish clan Lavellan.

The morning sun filtered in, throwing golden rays on Cullen's sheets. The commander lay, basking in the pleasant warmth, reflecting on the events of yesterday. The pain and traumatic memories had subsided, leaving only a dull ache in his knuckles from the bookshelf. ' _You can_ ' Silvia's gentle words of confidence echoed in his head. Cullen's mind shifted to her touch and his heart skipped a beat. The elf's auburn hair, usually brought together in a bushy ponytail, had a lovely hue that reminded him of Embrium flowers. The strands not long enough laid by her cheeks- her dainty pointed ears peeking out from under her hair. His mind drifted further, imagining her gentle hands, soft and warm, cupping his face with her slender fingers brushing through his hair. Her breath against his lips. The sigh of his name in her throat as he kissed her and felt the brush of her warm tongue against his own.

  
"Commander, are you awake? You're reports for Sister Leliana are ready for review," a female voice called from his office below. Cullen bolted, sitting stiffly upright, at the sudden intrusion.

  
"T-Thank you. If you could set them on my desk, I will give them to her shortly," he commanded, edginess leaking into his voice as he put his boots on.

  
"Certainly, Ser."

  
He secured the rest of armor, complete with the draping cloak that was secured it. Descending the ladder, Cullen gazed around the office. Where there was once a pile of books on the floor there was the bare floor. The shards of box and glass that had rested in the threshold had disappeared too. _I will have to thank whoever cleaned the mess up._

  
**'.'.'**

"Here are your reports, Leliana," Cullen approached the spymaster as she sent a raven out the slitted window. She gave him a nod as she glanced in his direction.

  
"Thank you, Commander," the sharply accented voice replied, taking the papers in her hands and thumbing through the pages. After flipping through the report, Leliana turned her eyes towards the ex-templar. "You are still here?"

  
"Um... yes. I have a question, if I may."

  
"You may." She set the papers in a neat pile on the table beside her.

  
"Is the Inquisitor in Skyhold at present?"

  
"She and her party left for the Hinterlands this morning."

  
The commander hesitated for a moment, studying the scuff marks on the tips of his boots. "Did she- I mean- does she ever... talk to you?"

 

"Of course the Inquisitor does," Leliana giggled as a slow grin spread across her face, "Are you asking if she talks about you?"

  
"N-No...well... Does she?" As soon as the question tumbled out of his mouth, he regretted it. _I'll never hear the end of it._

  
Leliana chuckled as she moved a strand of hair brushing against her cheek to behind her left ear."I do believe she has a soft spot for you, Commander Cullen."

  
The blonde ex-templar, feeling warmth spread across his cheeks, shifted his weight and crossed his arms. "W-why would you think that?"

  
"Who do you think cleaned up the mess in your office late last night?" Lelianna questioned as she arched an eyebrow.

  
"I... she did that?"

  
The spymaster leaned against the cool stone wall of the tower, with one foot propped against the wall. "And if I'm not mistaken, I believe you care for her as well."

  
"N-no- I mean yes- but not in that-," Cullen stammered, pausing to massage the bridge of his nose, "Even if that were true, what of the Inquisition? It comes first."

  
"Indeed, Commander," she said tilting her head slightly, "but I think two people can enjoy each other's company and defeat Corypheus. The two aren't mutually exclusive, as long as everyone does their job and know the risks involved."

  
"Um... Thank you, Leliana. I'll be... returning to my duties," muttered Cullen, turning on his heel to swiftly exit the spymaster's unrelenting smirk.

  
"Wait a moment."

  
Cullen groaned, turning to face the Leliana, "What?"

  
A raven perched on her shoulder as Leliana opened a tattered piece of parchment, crinkling as she forced it flat.. "There is a matter the Inquisitor wants us to attend to in the war room."

**'.'.'**

A gust of wind whipped in through the window, causing a few flurries to escape inside as Cullen leaned against the windowsill. Josephine, twirling the quill between her finger and thumb, stood opposite of him around the war table. The double doors creaked open, and Leliana stepped inside.

  
"I've received word from the Inquisitor," she reported while closing the door behind her, "It seems that bandits trouble clan Lavellan. Her clan has tracked her to the Hinterlands. Inquisitor Silvia is heading directly there from her current location, but wishes to send someone ahead."

  
Josephine dipped her quill in the ink well. "Only bandits? The Duke of Wycome could handle that easily."

  
"If that were really the case, then I suppose he could," the spymaster continued, putting a gold pin at the northern part of the map, "But the letter goes on to say these 'bandits' are heavily armed and armored, not to mention they outnumber the clan's hunters. That doesn't sound very bandit like."

  
"What we need are soldiers to give the Dalish support. I can lead troops north to deal with these so called 'bandits'," Cullen suggested as he approached the map.

  
"I could easily send agents to-"

  
" You and your agents have several matters that are being attended to as it is."

  
Leliana raised an eyebrow. "That is true, but you said lead. You are going too? Commander... are you sure you are well enough?"

  
"I am fine.These elves are the Inquisitor's clan, an extension of her. A threat to them is a threat to us. We need to send a message to these so called bandits that we will not tolerate these offenses. I can do this," the ex-templar leaned on the table to study the map closer. If I left now, we could arrive within the week."

  
"This tactic could work, on the bandits and any others that oppose the Inquisition," the Antivan nodded, glancing up from her scribbled notes.

  
"Then we are agreed," Leliana's lips formed a smile as she spoke.

  
"Good. I will begin the preparations immediately."

**'.'.'**

  
Several days passed as Cullen and his soldiers made the journey. He prayed nothing would happen in his absence, but trusted those he left in charge. They had set up camp early in the evening to prepare for the battle ahead. A few scouts had been sent out to search for the elven clan. The commander sat on a stump stoking the fire. _My reasons for going to the Free Marches may have extended beyond mere strategy. She helped me far more than maybe even she knows on the day I nearly lost myself. There were things that went unsaid. Perhaps this is a start to make amends._

  
Jogging up beside him, a scout approached breathing heavily. "Commander! The bandits have been spotted, ser!"

  
"Their numbers?" Cullen stood up, adjusting his armor.

  
"Thirty-eight and counting, ser."

  
"What of the Dalish?"

 

"They are holding out, but they won't last another attack."

  
"We must move quickly. If we delay, the consequences will be dire."

  
He gathered his forces on a hill overlooking the battlefield. The Inquisition's banner flapped lazily in the wind. Cullen, on his horse, paced the front line. All eyes settled on him. Scanning the valley below, he saw that with the Inquisition's soldiers combined with the Dalish would make the bandits far outnumbered.

  
"Today, let us show these 'bandits' that we are not to be taken lightly," The commander unsheathed his sword and held it high, "For the Inquisition!"

  
Repeating the cry, the soldiers charged down the hillside. Both Dalish and enemy froze at the sight. On his horse, Cullen charged with them. The elven people, realizing aid had come, rallied with the Inquisition forces. The edge of the Commander's sword sliced into the neck of the first bandit, dove deep into the chest of a second, and his horse knocking down a third. He swung his sword precisely as he cut through the battlefield. The Inquisition soldiers flanked the enemy, overpowering them with ease.

 

"Inquisitor?" He stopped his horse short. The battle was nearly over. There were only a few stragglers left.

  
"Did you forget I was on my way?" Silvia asked as she flashed a smile. Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian had come with her and were scanning the grounds for wounded.

  
"No, but I was hoping to have this battle over with before you arrived."

  
"So you could have all the fun?" The Inquisitor gave a small laugh. The Dalish elves were regrouping, many of the hunters were heading back to their camp.

  
"Silvia! I did not expect to see you among the soldiers," a grey-haired elf approached, draped in red ornate robes and wooden staff in hand, "And this is?"

  
"Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Inquisition," Silvia replied as she motioned to the commander to come forward. He bowed his head slightly, unsure of the elven customs.

  
"I am Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan. If it wasn't for you, the battle would not have turned in our favor. Ma serannas."

  
"M-ma serannas," the commander repeated, hoping he pronounced it correctly.

  
A young hunter approached. His short black hair was a spiky disarray and his leather armor was missing chunks.

  
"You! It's you!" the hunter spat marching up to them, "You dare show your face after Kyllen?" the elf was shaking with rage.

  
"Ir abelas. It was an accident," Silvia spoke managing a deadpan expression.

  
"Your 'apologies' will not bring my brother-"

  
"Inquisitor! A rift has opened by the Dalish camp," Cassandra interrupted, speaking quickly, "Monsters have started pouring out. We need to act now so the remaining can be saved. "

  
"Save the guilt trip for later," Silvia snapped at the hunter. She whistled for her horse, a black and white Dalish All-Bred, and it obediently cantered to her side. Her horse stopped abruptly causing dirt and dust to fly. The Inquisitor hopped on it, and together they galloped toward the sparking green horizon.


	6. Things Said, Things Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silvia realizes she can't leave things unsaid.

Cullen spurred his dapple grey horse on, galloping to catch up to the Inquisitor. Grass, dust, and dirt flung to the air in clumps in the wake of his horse's hooves. Her companions followed on their mounts.

"Inquisitor, I hope you don't plan on closing this one alone," Cullen shouted over the hoofbeats.

  
Silvia glanced over her shoulder, giving a nod of approval before focusing her attention on the fast approaching rift. The jade, crackling tear into the fade floated above their heads as the Dalish struggled to move their landships. The elf flung herself off her horse, rolling into a crouch before springing forward to the nearest target- a rage demon. Its two arms swung widely as the amorphous lava body oozed along the ground. Seizing her dual daggers sheathed on her back, the Inquisitor slashed downward in a criss-cross motion. Silvia's blades cut deep into the magma flesh on its pointed face before the demon had time to react. The creature bellowed a rumbling cry and then dissipated into the earth. Without hesitation, she moved on to the next demon.

  
Cullen arrived in time to see the demon's defeat. Dismounting swiftly, he drew his sword. The commander took a step toward Silvia's skirmish, but a vociferous shriek stopped him where he stood. A thin stream of green energy cracked in front of the ex-templar, and in an instant, a spindly, seven foot tall terror demon flashed into existence. Its eight beady eyes stared unblinking and hollow as the drooping, gaping mouth uttered another wail. The lanky figure whipped its thorned tail, glancing off Cullen's shoulder, causing him to stagger. He withstood the attack, slashing his sword, slicing nothing but air. The creature had vanished. The area around him crackled with fade energy as the demon toyed with its prey, popping in and out of existence at will.

"Curly, duck!"

  
Instinctively, Cullen crouched. A whirring bolt soared inches above his head, piercing the demon that had just materialized through the middle. The creature screeched while clawing at the wound with angular fingers. He shot up, thrusting his sword into the terror demon, knocking it to the ground. He twisted the blade as it screamed and writhed- struggling to break free before going limp. It dissolved back into the fade with a green shimmer.

  
Commander Cullen turned back, waving a brief thanks to Varric. The dwarf, perched on a boulder, gave a salute back then turned his focus on firing a barrage of arrows into a rage demon that was closing the gap between them.

  
"Inquisitor! Close the rift!" Cassandra barked bashing her shield against a lesser shade, causing the ghostly shade to dissipate into a wispy cloud of black-grey vapor.

  
"Or don't. I could do this all day," quipped Dorian, holding his staff up high as he covered another shade with ice.

  
Silvia thrust her marked hand upward, casting a sparking beam from her hand into the veil tear. The rift fizzled and hissed as if in protest. Collapsing on itself, the rift exploded in a blaze of light and thunderous boom. The Herald felt the resounding boom vibrate in her sternum and heard it echo in the surrounding hills. Silence blanketed the valley.

**'.'.'**

  
The sun had shrunk to a sliver on the horizon when Silvia rode with her companions and Cullen to the newly relocated Dalish camp. The elves were in the process of regrouping, others were setting up the landships, and more than a few tended to the wounded. The Dalish elder approached them as they neared.

  
"Andaran atish’an. I am pleased at your safe return," the keeper bowed keeping her gaze fixed on the Inquisitor.

  
"The Dalish should be safe here. I will have some soldiers stay to help with relief efforts."

  
"Ma serannas! That is very gracious of you," Istimaethoriel Lavellan's eyes widened, a polite smile tugging at her aged face. She paused, eyes darting to the Inquisitor's companions then back to her. The keeper leaned in, inches from Silvia's face, and whispered, "Please forgive hunter Ishall. He does not mean what he says. Ma'dareth vhenas melanada."

  
Silvia stared into the keeper's deep brown eyes for several seconds, searching her face for sincerity. "I understand. Emma isala melana mir'aravel. I will consider it."

  
"Very well. Dareth shiral," the elven elder, turning her attention to Silvia's companions, bowed her head slightly. "Travel safely."

  
Silvia watched Keeper Lavellan until she disappeared into the tent designated for the wounded.

  
"We should rest at camp before heading back to Skyhold," Cassandra stated. A light wind whipped past, bringing the rustle of leaves with it.

  
"Yeah. I think it's going to rain soon," Varric added casting his eyes to the starless sky.

  
**'.'.'**

  
Silvia, sprawled out on her cot, laid in the darkness of her tent. _How long have I been awake?_ The voices of the soldiers giving and taking orders had died down to near silence. The elf closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her middle. The anger that flashed in Ishall's eyes burned in her mind. The Herald turned onto her left side, pulling the down-stuffed pillow close to her face. _'You dare show your face after Kyllen?'_ She closed her eyes tight, trying to drown out the words in her head. _Ishall has every right to hate me._ With a frustrated growl, Lavellan sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot. She was dressed in little more than her night clothes, with a black overshirt and grey, loose-fitting breeches. The cold dirt greeted her bare feet- making her shiver. Cautiously, the Inquisitor peered out between the tent flaps. All other tents were dark. A few soldiers on night watch dotted the distant perimeter. Navigating past the tent flaps, Silvia's bare feet pitter-pattered on the packed down earth as she hurried to a giant oak several yards from her tent. The Herald slid her back down the trunk of the tree, her shirt catching in places from the roughness of the bark. She was quick to tug her top back into place once sitting on the ground. Gazing out at the field of tall grasses before her, she breathed deep the chilled night air.

  
"Trouble sleeping?" a quiet male voice broke the silence. Silvia jolted at the sudden intrusion. Cullen reclined on the right side of the tree, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. _Had I walked by without noticing?_

  
"You too?"

  
"I volunteered for the night watch. Lieutenant Rozellene will have the task of investigating the origin of those 'bandits'."

  
"And how are you feeling?"

  
"I am... sure I will feel better with time," Commander Cullen muttered as his eyes darted away.

  
"Oh. I hope so," the elf said giving a lackluster smile before returning her attentions to the meadow grasses swaying in the breeze.

  
"You have been quiet since meeting with Keeper Lavellan. If I may ask, is there something on your mind?" The ex-templar scooted next to Silvia.

  
"The keeper said ma'dareth vhenas melanada. I will be safe at home always. She's saying I can come back to the clan when I am done at Skyhold."

  
"What did you tell her?" Cullen propped an elbow on his knee.

  
"I told Keeper Istimaethoriel I would consider it, but I'm on an important journey. Skyhold is my home now."

  
"Is that why you are here... Or is it different matter?" The sound of distant thunder rumbled in the distance.

  
The muscles in Silvia's face tightened. "I have been thinking about Ishall. I wanted to say... well... anything to ease his pain. He hates me because of what happened to Kyllen. I do not know if I could help, but I at least want to offer my sympathies."

  
"Something is holding you back?"

  
"I am afraid of... I'm not sure what. Perhaps Ishall's reaction." The Herald wrapped her arms around her bent knees, pulling them close. Resting her head on her knees, her gaze fell on Commander Cullen.

  
"Maybe you should tell him what you think-how you feel. When are you going to be in this area again? There may not be another chance."

  
Inquisitor Silvia closed her eyes, pausing for several minutes. "I am leaving for clan Lavellen's camp," she declared, taking to her feet.

  
Cullen arose to his feet, concern rising in his voice as he almost shouted, "At this instant? It might be wise to wait-"

  
"Sorry, commander," the Inquisitor whistled for her horse, then continued, "If I do not do this, I might not get another chance." The elf's horse, giving a loud snort, trotted over. Thunder clapped closer this time.

  
"Shouldn't I at least accompany you?"

  
Silvia mounted the horse as she said, "I will be back shortly. Besides, I do not think it would be wise to leave your post."

  
Spurring the black and white mare, Silvia Lavellan disappeared into the dark.

  
"Andraste keep you safe," Cullen whispered. The wind rose up, huffing once more, and the light patter of rain started to fall.


	7. Through the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inquisitor Silvia finds Ishall in a dire situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide attempt.

Wind whipped bitter rain from all directions while the Inquisitor's horse galloped past blurred shadows. Droplets of water stung Silvia's face as she struggled to make out the path ahead. Freeing a hand from the reins, she removed a strand of hair that had become plastered to her face.  _Only a little farther._ Booming thunder cracked overhead. Lightning struck a few seconds following the thunder, illuminating the field in a brilliance of white. Recognizing the way, she was grateful for the light, if only for a moment. A faint glimmer of yellow flickered on the horizon. Spurring the horse on, the mare neighed, her hooves pummeling the sodden earth. Huts and landships became more than outlines in the distance. The elven Inquisitor smiled at the triumph, but her body trembled at the sight.

  
**'.'.'**

  
The meager fire flickered low, threatening to go out for the third time that night. Blinking his stinging eyes, Ishall turned his attention to the flask by his side. He grasped it tightly , flicking open the lid with his thumb. The elven hunter brought the silver flask to his lips, but was greeted by a few drops of spiced wine. Frowning in disappointment, Ishall chucked the empty container over his shoulder. It landed behind him with a clink. The elf's fingers grasped his ironbark dagger- a gift from Kyllen. The blade glistened in the dim light as he ran his fingers over the whetted tip. _Please forgive me, brother, but I cannot see an end to this._ Trembling, Ishall placed the smooth blade against the warm flesh of his neck. His other hand wiped away the cold sweat forming on his brow. Closing his eyes, Ishall breathed a deep uneven breath. With one swift motion, he swiped the edge across the tender skin.

  
"Ishall... Ishall are you in there?" a female voice called out beyond the covered entrance.

  
Blood steadily trickled down his neck, staining his olive tunic crimson. It was happening faster than he expected. The word felt off balance. He wasn't aware when his head hit the ground or of the gurgling moan that escaped his throat. Yanking the leather covering aside, Silvia called out to him, but he did not hear. Without hesitation, the Inquisitor snatched a blanket and ripped a the corner of the cloth. She wrapped the makeshift bandage around the wound and applied pressure with her hands.

  
"You are lucky that you missed. Any deeper and you would have been dead," she muttered as she applied force.

  
Ishall rolled his eyes upward, his gaze trailing behind her. "I do not need... your sympathy..." he whispered, the words barely audible between labored breaths.

  
Silvia, ignoring his words, ripped another strip to replace the soaked cloth. "You are loosing too much blood," she grumbled, her words fast and pitch uneven. Reaching to her belt, she pulled out a vial filled with red liquid. Tilting his neck up, she slipped the vial's contents into his mouth. Ishall wanted to resist, but his body would not obey. The female elf continued to monitor the bandage, changing it once more. Warmth radiated from his stomach, slowly inching its way outward, and his breathing calmed. The health potion was working.

  
"I asked not for your help. Leave me," he choked, waving his hand as if to shoo her away. Silvia shook her head, giving a weak smile while applying more pressure to the wound. "Why are you... doing this?"

  
Using the remants of the torn blanket as a pillow, she moved Ishall's head to the wadded up fabric. "This is not what Kyllen would want."

  
"How would you know?" he demanded, straining his voice, "He was my brother and best friend."

  
"He was my friend too, but Kyllen's last words were nothing but hate towards me," Silvia paused, inhaling a deep breath before continuing, "I thought that might make you feel better, knowing that Kyllen said I was a traitor that no one would love in his last moments."

  
Ishall paused, considering her words. "My brother did not hate you. Growing up, I was... infatuated with a beautiful elven girl, but was too nervous to act on it. Kyllen saw the dilemma and... decided to befriend the girl," he explained, closing his eyes.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, she exclaimed, "Oh, Ishall, I never knew-"

  
"It was a foolish idea... Kyllen was supposed to introduce us, but instead he wanted you for himself. If I had the courage to just say what I felt... but I was a coward... so I fed him lies about you so he would lose interest. Ir abelas, in his last moments, perhaps he thought they were true."

  
Giving one final gentle squeeze, the Inquisitor removed her hand. "There is nothing to be sorry for."

  
"I am not mad at you for the loss of Kyllen. It was easier to blame you than me."

  
"Why blame yourself? You could not have predicted what would happen." Silvia lifted the corner of the bandage, putting it back in place when she saw the bleeding had stopped.

  
"Even though I want to believe you, I... just need a little time." Ishall relaxed his features, turning his eyes to Silvia.

  
"Rest, Ishall. You have been through much this night," the Inquisitor softly spoke, arising to her feet.

  
"You are leaving?"

  
"If I am not back soon, I fear Cullen will send out a search party," she gave a small laugh taking a few steps toward the exit before continuing, "I will send for a healer to tend to your wounds. Please take care."

  
Dareth shiral," Ishall called out, but she was gone.

  
**'.'.'**

  
Fog blanketed the area in a thick veil of white. Scouring the meadow, the commander searched for the Inquisitor. The rain had subsided, and the moon occasionally peeked from behind the clouds. _What if she is injured or-?_ His mind couldn't bear to finish the thought. Cullen ran his hands over his face, letting out a low groan. _If anything happened to her, it would be my fault._ Shoving a hand into his pocket, his fingers tightened around the coin tucked inside. Cullen murmured a prayer as he paced, the memorized words falling from his lips as his mind focused on Silvia. A sound echoed in the distance. He paused. A shadow contrasted against the sparse moonlight. His heartbeat quickened, realizing the sound was an approaching horse.

  
"Inquisitor!" Cullen shouted, sprinting toward her. Silvia, whose soaked clothes and hair clung to her shivering form, slumped on the horse. Her skin was pale, save for her reddened nose and ears. Dark splotches covered her hands up to her elbows. Even in that state, her face wore a tired smile. As she dismounted, her legs buckled. Cullen extended his arm, catching her before she fell. The elf's hand was heavy on his elbow, fingers tightening as she steadied herself. Even though she appeared to be freezing, Cullen could feel heat radiating off her skin.

  
"You've caught a fever."

  
"I'll be fine," she mumbled back, releasing her grip on the commander only to stumble into him with the next step. "I am a little tired, that's all," affirmed Silvia, voice muffled against Cullen's fur pauldrons. His chest tightened at the unexpected closeness. She straightened, moving to arms length. Her breath strained, muscles aching, body trembling.

  
"I would like to fetch a healer to be sure." Cullen helped the Inquisitor to her tent, staying close at her side in case her steps faltered.

  
"You are worried about me?"

  
"Of course. I will always worry about you."

  
"There's no need to worry," the elf said giving a forced, weak laugh.

  
"I will return in a moment with a healer. I... thought you might need a change of clothes so... I set some aside for you." Before the Inquisitor could thank him, Cullen turned on his heel, walking briskly in the direction of the group of tents that belonged to the mages.

  
Entering the tent, Silvia noticed there was a clean overshirt and breeches folded neatly on the cot. She changed into the fresh clothes, balling up her soggy ones in the corner.

  
"Inquisitor... may we enter?" Cullen asked from outside.  
"Come in."

  
A silver-haired woman, staff in hand, hurried through the tent flaps. Cullen stepped in after, but remained near the entrance as not to get in the way. The elder woman checked the Inquisitor's pulse and felt Silvia's forehead. Waving the staff close to her face, Silvia could feel the pleasantly warm waves of healing magic wash over her chilled skin. When the woman smiled at the Inquisitor, the wrinkles on her face seemed to overlap.

  
"I must return to tending the wounded. Keep an eye on her. If the fever becomes worse, find me," ordered the mage as she left, her voice raspy.

  
Cullen turned to Silvia. "I should... um... let you rest. I'll check on you later, if you wish."

  
"Wait. Please stay."

  
"What?" His eyes widened with surprise.

  
Twisting her fingers together in her lap, the Inquisitor glanced away. "I would... like for you to stay, at least until I become tired."

  
Cullen seated himself on a wooden chair beside the cot. "Did you accomplish what you set out to do tonight?"

  
"I believe so, yes. It was a good thing I arrived when I had. A moment later and he..." she trailed off, voice quivering while she wiped the crusty splotches off her skin. Cullen had seen enough blood to guess what had happened.

  
"Are you all right?"

  
Silvia lay down, pulling the sheets up to her chin. "I never thought how Kyllen's death would affect Ishall. In fact, Kyllen rarely mentioned Ishall, so I forgot he even had a brother until yesterday. I left everything behind when I left clan Lavellan- I didn't even think..." There was a pause between them. Shifting onto her side, Silvia hugged her pillow tight and turned her attention to Cullen. "Did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?"

  
"No," he chuckled, "I fear I made few friends there, and my family's in Ferelden."

  
"No one special caught your interest?" Stifling a yawn, she closed her eyes.

  
"Not in Kirkwall." the commander spoke, gaze falling on Silvia. _Stay it, now! This is the perfect chance._

  
"I want to-um... Thank you for the other day... and cleaning my office."

  
"Mm."

  
"You have helped me more than... um... any person has dared... and I hope that-" _Hope that what?_ Cullen groaned internally, covering his burning face with his hands.

He awaited the Inquisitor's response to his botched string of words. There was only the soft sound of slow breathing. He gave a sigh, relieved she had not heard him. _She is the Inquisitor. And I should not..._ But the way she tried her hardest to help the inquisition, the refugees, anyone- no matter how trivial the problem made him respect her even more. She had given him hope that he could put his lyrium past behind him. And when Silvia flashed her smile that could light up the darkest night, and her spirited laugh that made his heart skip... Maker, he was hopelessly lost. Leaning against the back of the chair, Cullen yawned. His head began to droop forward. Sleep tugged at his eyes, itching at the desire for rest.

  
**'.'.'**

  
Cullen could not feel his left leg. Something heavy was in his lap. _How long have I been asleep?_

  
"What in Andraste's name...?" Blinking his eyes open, Cullen flushed as he realized that Silvia's head rested in his lap. Her pillow had fallen in between the bed and the chair, and somehow in her sleep she had replaced it with Cullen's leg. The Inquisitor's chest rose and fell with slow breaths. Her full lips were slightly parted. Frozen in place, he hardly dared to breathe as his eyes traveled around the tent. His mind drifted for a moment.

 _Maker, she was so close; it would so easy to cup her cheek and touch her face._ Silvia stirred, snapping his mind back to reality. Nuzzling his leg, the elf gave a sleepy sigh. Cullen sat ridged, holding his breath until he was sure she remained asleep. With great care he leaned over, grasping the pillow and slowly bringing it back to the bed. Carefully with slow movements, Cullen cushioned her shoulder with his hand, moving her back onto the cot. He paused as she pulled the pillow close, giving another sigh. The commander stood up, stretching as joints cracked. Taking off his glove, he placed a hand on Silvia's forehead.

  
_The fever has gone._ He grinned. Carefully grasping the corners of the askew blanket, Cullen pulled the sheet up and around Silvia's shoulders. Then, walking as lightly as possible, he made his way out of the tent. Orange hued sun rays kissed the landscape. Dawn was on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter doesn't offend anybody. To everyone who reads my work, you guys rock!


	8. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silvia sorts out her feelings for Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to technical difficulties I had to delete and reupload. This chapter is dialogue heavy but I promise those that want fluff will be rewarded with the last scene. :)

_I'll always worry about you._

 

Silvia's heart fluttered pleasantly at the memory of Cullen's words as she slid her boots on, tying the laces up tight. She recalled feeling ill the previous night, a mixture of the fever and the nights events to blame. After rescuing Ishall from death, Silvia's heart was heavy and she had not wanted to bear that night alone. _Perhaps the commander sensed my unease... is that the reason he stayed without question?_ Putting on her armor, the Inquisitor made sure all the pieces fit snug.

 

"Hey, you alive in there?"

 

"Varric?" Striding out of the tent, the elven Inquisitor shielded her eyes against the blinding sun. "What time is it?"

 

The dwarf, putting his finger and thumb to his chin thoughtfully, cocked his head at the sky. "Oh... I'd say it's around midday."

 

"We should have left for Skyhold ages ago! Why did you let me sleep so late?" the Inquisitor scolded.

 

Varric chuckled and shrugged. "Curly said you needed your beauty sleep- not in those words of course."

 

"Ha, that I did. Where is our dear commander, anyway?" Her eyes wandering around the nearly empty camp. Dorian sat on a stump reading a book he had brought along and Cassandra struck her sword against the oak tree. A few soldiers had stayed as well, but most were involved with the bandit investigation.

 

"He left after receiving a letter from Ruffles muttering something about a damned party."

 

"Right, the ball is coming up and I still haven't the proper attire," Silvia smirked, "Shall we head back?"

 

"Lead the way, your Inquisitorialness," Varric said, sketching a brief bow.

 

**'.'.'**

 

For three days they traveled to Skyhold. Three tedious days spent breaking up verbal disputes between Cassandra and Varric. Three wearisome days spent enduring Dorian's lecture on Tevinter mages . Three exhausting nights trying to sleep with at least two of her companion's incessant snoring. Inquisitor Lavellan breathed in relief at the end of the fourth day when she gazed at her map and saw that Skyhold was half a day's journey.

 

Silvia devoured the last bit of stew, made from fresh meat of a ram she had hunted that evening. Her friends had finished their meal and sat around the campfire.

 

"-When Alexius finally tracked me down, he found me in the slave quarters in bed with three elven servants and a dwarf. You can imagine the look on his face!" Dorian recounted causing all but Cassandra to burst into laughter.

 

"That reminds me. I heard Curly has taken a liking to our Inquisitor."Varric stated with a chuckle.

 

"I bet you were eavesdropping again..." the mage said, smirking, "Although this would explain why I watched him spend at least ten minutes in front of the damn window fixing his hair in the reflection before handing in a requisition report to the Inquisitor. I thought he was going to rip his hair out."

 

Varric laughed, turning his attention to the elf, "You should tell him."

 

"Tell him what?" The elven Inquisitor blinked, tilting her head to the side.

 

"How you feel about him?"

 

"I don't know what you are talking about... He doesn't- I don't-" With elbows propped on her knees, Silvia rested her face in her hands, hiding her flushed cheeks.

 

"You are good at many things, but lying isn't your strong suit," the dwarf commented, leaning against a fallen tree.

 

She lifted her flustered face from her hands. "I admit, the commander does cross my thoughts more often than not."

 

"Since he was a templar, I doubt he's ever been with a woman,"added Dorian, wearing a smug smirk that broadened into a full grin, "Would you like me to ask him for you? I'm sure that I could teach him about-"

 

"N-no! That won't be necessary." the elven Inquisitor shook her head, giggling at the thought of Dorian giving Cullen lessons on sexual encounters.

 

"Besides, not all templars are chaste. In Kirkwall, you wouldn't believe how many templars I saw sneak into The Blooming Rose."

 

Shifting her gaze towards the Seeker, Silvia didn't know if Cassandra was going to burst out laughing or vomit. Her face twisted as she made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

 

"There is too much at stake," the Seeker stressed while clinching her jaw, "This is not the time to get involved with the commander... Besides, your the Inquisitor! The whole chain of command-"

 

"It's exactly times like these when people should get involved. Danger surrounds us on a daily basis. Shit, who knows how long any of us have? Whatever the Inquisitor choice, we will stand by her... right Cassandra?" Varric nudged the nearby Seeker with his elbow.

 

The female warrior expelled a sigh and shrugged. "You know I worry about Thedas, but I know I worry too much. Do what will make you happy." Rising from her seat, Cassandra shuffled to her bedroll. "Good night, Inquisitor," she called after a moment.

 

"Good night, Cassandra."

 

"It has been a long day, perhaps I should rest as well. If we leave early, we might reach Skyhold at a reasonable hour," Dorian said and arose. Varric muttered a 'night' as he collapsed on his bed.

 

One by one, Silvia's friends had excused themselves, leaving her staring deep into the warm glow of the crackling fire, searching her soul for her next course of action. She longed to feel the comforting warmth of Cullen's embrace. Her heart flittered in her chest yearning for the gentleness of his touch and in that moment all she wanted- more than anything- was to hear his voice, gaze into his amber eyes, and hold him as close as her arms would allow. _I could do nothing, and ignore this... whatever 'this' is. But if there is any possibility of feelings shared between us, I want tell him..._

 

_...and maybe things would be different between us._

 

**'.'.'**

 

"No, Commander, start with your left foot. Try again," instructed Josephine, with a hand on Cullen's shoulder and the other holding his gloved hand.

 

"We've been at this for hours,"the commander growled, "I am not one for dancing." Stepping back, Cullen released Josephine's hand. They had started mid morning, but the early afternoon sun now streamed into the diplomat's office.

 

"If the Inquisitor can learn all the typical Orlesian dances within a few days, surely you can learn this simple one," the Antivan retorted, perching her hands on her hips.

 

"I believe I have other important matters to attend to, if you'll excuse me." He gave a stiff mechanical bow before sharply turning toward the door.

 

"But Empress Celene's ball is less than week away!" she shouted after him.

 

"Between the assassination attempt on the Empress and the Game, I doubt the Orlesians will have time for dancing," Cullen shot over his shoulder accompanied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

Gripping the door handle, he gave it a vicious yank and came inches from walking into Silvia, who was still reaching for the handle.

 

"Inquisitor Lavellan!" Cullen nearly shouted, "I wasn't aware of your return."

 

"I have not been here long."

 

"There's um..." he let out a breath, fingers raking through his hair, "Could you come find me when you are free?"

 

"Are you all right?"

 

"Yes, I'm well. I needed to talk to you... about the other day, that's all." He briskly walked past her quizzical stare with hurried steps before she could call him back.

 

Cullen made his way to his office hoping that the Inquisitor would keep Josephine long enough that she would forget about him. Enthroning himself at his desk, the ex-templar shuffled through the parchment papers.

 

"You there!" he barked, eyeing the recruit, nervously shifting his weight, standing in front of him. "Where is the report from Leliana about red templar positions at Emprise du Lion?"

 

"I-I don't-" he squeaked.

 

"Go and fetch it!" the commander ordered, irritation in his voice,"I want it delivered without delay."

 

"Y-y-yes, sir!" the messenger stuttered, scrambling over himself to escape out the door.

 

Bringing a hand to his face, Cullen gave a small chuckle. There were no headaches today, and the Inquisitor had returned safely- the latter lifting a tremendous weight off his shoulders. He found himself in a good mood, despite the loathsome dancing lessons.

 

He rose out of his chair, ambling out to the door to the battlements. Leaning against the stone and closing his eyes, Cullen breathed deep the crisp mountain air. Hearing the steps of a person approaching, he turned to see Silvia approaching. It appeared she had gotten changed since she now wore a simple grey button-down shirt. Her hair, free from the typical ponytail, tumbled around her face and fell down to the middle of her back. Cullen had never seen the Inquisitor with her hair down and couldn't help but smile as she sashayed up to him.

 

"I wanted to thank you. When you came to see me—If there's anything—" he ventured. Bringing a hand up, he rubbed the tense muscles in his neck and sighed, "This sounded much better in my head."

 

Stifling a giggle, she offered a smile and asked, "I trust you're feeling better?"

 

"I—yes."

 

"Is it always that bad?"

 

"The pain comes and goes," he paused. Unable to meet her eyes, his gaze returned to the distant mountains. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there. I should not have pushed myself so far that day."

 

"I'm just glad you're alright."

 

"I am," he assured her with certainty, turning back to face the snowy peaks of the distant mountains. The elf took a couple steps forward, coming to stand beside the commander. "I've never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden's Circle." "I was not myself after that. I was angry. For years that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me. Now, I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened." Cullen's gaze met hers momentarily before falling to the stone. He hadn't told anyone about his horrific experience, and yet, he continued to explain his past, because she had been more than willing to face it with him. "It's a start."

 

"For what it's worth, I like who you are now," she said with a grin, warm and soft.

 

"Even after...?" _Even after I almost gave in to temptation of lyrium? After you saw the worst of me? After I nearly belted you with the wooden box?_

 

Silvia laid a hand on his arm, between the rerebrace and the elbow gauntlet, and lingered there. He could feel her touch through the fabric, which sent his heart racing. Her fingers, giving a small squeeze, stayed an extra heartbeat before returning to her side. "Cullen, I care about you. You've done nothing to change that."

 

His features softened, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "What about you? You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?"

 

"Honestly, I'm terrified. So many people depend on us. On me. Corypheus is still out there." Casting her eyes to him, Slivia's gaze flashed with a soft vulnerability that the commander had never seen.

 

"We've made great strides. Do not doubt yourself- or the Inquisition- just yet. If there's anything I can do, you have only to ask. Giving a fist to heart salute, Cullen bowed his head.

 

"There is something. I thought we could talk... alone." Silvia finished, subtly motioning with her head to the more ruined part of the battlements.

 

"Alone?" he breathed, eyes widening, voice rising with trepidation. _What was so private they needed to be more alone than they already were?_ Clearing his throat, Cullen stammered, "I-I mean of course."

 

He followed her further past the destroyed towered that had yet to be repaired. The sun, hanging high in the cloudless sky, beat down on the battlements. _Maker preserve me, she isn't saying anything! What could be the matter? Did he speak out of turn? Did she no longer need him as a commander?_

 

"I-It's a nice day." he managed to stammer out while massaging his tightened neck muscles with his right hand.

 

"What?" Silvia, eyes unfocused with faraway thoughts, was pulled from her reverie and stopped, dragging her gaze to Cullen.

 

"It's-" the commander started to repeat his statement, but decided against it. "There was something you wished to discuss."

 

"Certainly not the weather," the elf beamed.

 

Cullen gave a chuckle and relaxed. "I assumed that much."

 

She blushed and glance fluttered away, chewing on her lower lip before continuing, "I find myself thinking of you. More than… well, all the time, really." She was coming to him not as the Inquisitor, but as Silvia.

 

"I can't say I haven't wondered what it would be like," he responded after a pause, taking a few steps away to hide his reddening face.

 

"What's stopping you?" Silvia bodily asked, moving to stand at his side.

 

Stopping, Cullen's eyes met her stare and took a step forward. "You're the Inquisitor. We're at war. And you… I didn't think it was possible." Is this actually happening, or is this some wild, but strangely beautiful, dream?

 

"And yet I'm still here," Silvia Lavellan shrugged, lifting an eyebrow.

 

"So you are…" he moved closer, daring to rest his hands on her alluring hips. A pleasant warmth spread through his body. Silvia's eyes shimmered bright emerald in the sunlight. With lips parted slightly, a soft smile formed at the corners of her mouth. "It seems too much to ask. But I want to-" Leaning in, Cullen's amber eyes locked on hers, he closed the small space between them. He could feel her shaky, shallow breaths on his lips. She smelled like fine, scented soap, and Cullen breathed deep- closing his eyes.

 

A door slammed open. "Commander!" The recruit had found him, report in hand. "You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report."

 

He stiffened for a moment, not wanting to let go of the moment, then turned toward the message runner. Silvia turned her head away, with chin hitting her chest and face reddened with embarrassment.

 

"What?" He growled through gritted teeth, letting all the frustration and anger enter his voice.

 

"Sister Leliana's report. You wanted it delivered 'without delay'," the messenger said, oblivious to the menacing tone.

 

Edging toward the recruit, the ex-templar glared through narrow eyes, face muscles tensed to a indignant scowl, and fists clenched by his sides.

 

"Or… to your office… right…" the intruder backed away, as if the commander was to lunge out and attack at any moment.

 

"Cullen, if you need to—"

 

Pivoting back to her, with one swift motion, he cradled the back of her head and crashed his lips into her's, swallowing her muffled gasp. He let the moment take him entirely- nothing else in Thedas mattered. Her arms held stiff in the air, but soon shifted into his kiss with hands coming to rest on his sides.

 

Realization of his actions jogged back into his head. He attempted to pull back, but the elf did not release her grip. "I'm sorry. That was… really nice."

 

Silvia held his gaze with as much sparkling wonder in her eyes as he probably had in his own. "I believe that was a kiss... but I can't be sure. It's all a blur," she teased with a wide grin. 

 

Cullen gave a warm, hearty laugh, releasing all tension from his body. "Yes, well…" he slowly pressed his lips against her's tenderly. Silvia tilted her head up, with fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist tightly, and let all that was her take him in.

 

When their kiss parted, they stayed in the embrace of each other. Cullen held her tight to his chest, as if she were to stop his galloping heart from breaking free and flying away.

 

"You have made me the happiest person in all of Thedas," Cullen said, putting a strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

 

"I do believe that title is mine this day," Silvia laughed rubbing her hand over the fur on his mantle.

 

Cullen responded with another hearty laugh, shifting slightly to be able to gaze into her eyes. "You faithfully have my heart, my lady."

 

"And you hold mine, kind sir," she giggled, light and airy, and raised a hand to his cheek. Caressing the skin, her thumb grazed the scar near his top lip. His heart felt light, free, and genuine as Cullen's lips came to meet hers once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for suffering through this chapter. The next one will have more action ;) also I just want to say thank you for all and any kudos, bookmarks,a and comments. It means a lot when people enjoy my work.


	9. Wicked Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is still plagued by nightmares. The Duchess throws a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be one long chapter but I decided to split it in two for easy reading.

(A/N: This was supposed to be one long chapter but I decided to split it in two for easy reading.)

Time stood still. There was no clue as to how many days had passed, or if rescue was possible. Cullen's electrical prison held him fast, and all he could manage was pray for either release or a swift death.

"Hello, my caged rat," a sultry voice greeted, interrupting his prayer. Opening his eyes, Cullen noticed a woman, with long black hair contrasting against her red robes, staring at him with smug smile. Standing beside her were three templars.

"Maker, what have you done to them?" Cullen uttered weakly, his lips barely able to form the words.

"I am Beca and these are my play things. Surely you recognize your comrades in arms, yes? This lot is under my command," she said, motioning to those by her side. He did recognize them. Beval was a new recruit and had unmistakable shaggy red hair. Farris was a grey-haired senior templar. And Annlise had her sandy blonde hair pulled into a tight bun - all were friends of his. The templars stood like statues with eyes unblinking.

"They will not move unless I say, and will do what I say. For example..." With the wave of the blood mage's hand, the first templar in line drew his sword, placing it on the shoulder of the second.

"What do you want from me?"

Beca answered with a sinister smile, "I know what you desire. I can give you your freedom. All you have to do is surrender your mind, body, and soul to me. Do that and your friends live."

Cullen blinked hard, exhaustion, hunger, and thirst clouding his mind. "Various illusions have haunted me. You are no different. Leave me."

The mage cackled into the back of her hand like it would suppress the shrill sound as it bounced off the stone chamber. "So be it."

With the snap of the mage's finger, Beval turned toward Farris. The sword separated from Farris' shoulder only to come back with momentum. The sickening sound of blade cutting through flesh and bone rang through Cullen's ears as the templar's head fell from his shoulders, both falling with dull thuds. Dark blood sprayed all in thick specks of crimson.

Beca's wicked smile turned into a sneer. "There are two left. You can choose to save them... or not. "  
"You are not real..." declared Cullen, his voice weak and breath heavy.

"As you wish." The mage, waving her hand in the air, smirked as the red-haired templar drew a broad knife from his belt. The edged tip glistened in the dim light once before plunging in between the armor plates at the ribs. Giving the handle a sharp twist, Beval crumpled to the floor with a gurgling breath. Blood dripped from his mouth, pooling onto the floor.

"One left," Beca cooed whilst twirling a strand of hair. The trapped templar remained silent, concentrating on a desperate plea to the Maker.

Pausing for an answer, the mage paced in front of the magical cage. "I see you have decided."

  
Thrusting one hand up toward Annlise, a brilliant surge light flared throughout the chamber as flames spilled forth from Beca's palm. The fire engulfed the female templar, who remained motionless before falling to her knees. When the fire blast subsided, all that remained was a burnt husk of a body in singed armor.

"That was fun," she purred wearing a satisfied smile.

"Maker... you should be gone..." he breathed, gathering enough strength to lunge into the force field. The electrical current pulsed through his body, throwing it like a rag doll as he painfully skidded on the stone floor.

"Don't feel bad, my lovely, you couldn't have saved them... or could you? Hard to say..."

Twitching on the frigid ground, Cullen forced his shaky arms to hoist himself upright. The mage cackled, enveloping herself in a harsh violet flame. Out of the flame emerged a humanoid demon. The creature's purple body appeared like a naked female, with only dangling gold jewelry covering her nipples and a thin criss-cross of cloth concealing her thighs. Twisted horns curved out from Beca's temples, and a scaly tail swished behind her.

"Cullen?"

_It was real... those people died... while I watched and did nothing._ Cullen, curling up, cried out in a helpless rage. Tears trickled down his cheeks as guilt washed over him.

He awoke with a jolt, head jerking up from his desk and wide eyes darting around the room. The nightmare, thick and acrid, echoed in his muddled mind- his hands trembling, vision out of focus. A hand was on his shoulder, pulling him from the dream's haunting visages.

"Cullen!"

Leaning against the corner of his desk, Silvia released her grip with her eyes fixated on the Commander's face with worry. In the short time since their confession on the battlements, they had seen each other less than he desired. Upcoming arrangements for the ball and guests had distracted the Inquisitor from enjoying his company.

"We leave for the Winter Palace within the hour. Are you well?" He noticed the Inquisitor was wearing a button down vermilion dress jacket, complete with blue sash, and her hair was back in a ponytail.

Cullen brought a palm up to rub his face, letting out a tired groan. "Just a slight headache, nothing to worry over," he responded gruffly, trying to push the remnants of the nightmare out of his head. A wave of pain lanced through his temple, causing Cullen to hiss a sharp breath and wince.

"Here, I brought the tea I made. It should ease the pain," she said offering him a steaming mug filled with citron-colored liquid.

"Oh, um... Thank you." He grabbed the handle and slowly took a sip. The warm drink tasted of sweet honey and citrus. "What's in this, if you don't mind my asking?" he questioned, taking another gulp.

"It is my own blend of elfroot, honey, and a little lemon. Sometimes I add other healing herbs as well." The elf couldn't help but grin as Cullen gulped his tea down.

"Could you, if it's not too much trouble... make more for me again- I mean- when you have the time?" he asked setting the empty mug aside.

"Of course, my dear Commander."

The endearment caused a smile to tug at the corners of his lips. Reaching over, he squeezed her gloved hand resting on the desk.

"How could I be so lucky?" Cullen uttered mostly to himself, caressing a thumb over the fabric, lingering before pulling away.

"Get dressed and meet us at the main gate... unless you wish me to help you into your attire," Silvia giggled, giving a peck on his flushed cheek before retreating out of the room.

**'.'.'**

Cullen watched as the honor guard, selected from his finest soldiers, proceeded Inquisitor Lavellan through the palace gates. He was familiar with The Game, as the Orlesians fondly called it, and knew that Silvia was in grave danger- danger that would be difficult to see coming. The Grand Duke Gaspard led Silvia into the place. She kept him at arms length, entertaining him with playful jests or remarks, always armed with a smile. If she was nervous, she showed no sign. He felt a pang of fear hit the bottom of his stomach as she, accompanied by Sera, Cole, and Vivienne, disappeared behind the massive doors. _I will have to trust in Leliana and Josephine to keep an eye on the court, and hope I won't be needed._

"The Inquisitor is a Dalish- a savage!"

"Is this Gaspard's idea of a joke?"

Cullen cringed at the whispered words of the Orlesian nobles while their eyes followed Silvia's every move. She, acting as if she hadn't heard, laughed and smiled while making polite conversation with the Grand Duke until their party was announced. He nearly busted a rib holding in a laugh at 'her ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse'. _I will have to thank Sera for that one._

After announcing the guests, the festivities began. People danced, nobles gossiped, and elven servants flitted from room to room handing out refreshments.

Cullen, walking over to the back corner of the upper ballroom, stood guard while Josephine and Leliana mingled with the nobles. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he flexed his shoulder in his snug dress jacket.

"I should have this jacket let out a little," he muttered, flexing the other shoulder. He hated feeling useless.

He had hoped that in assuming the strategic post in the back would give him a clear vantage point of the party, but he found his view blocked.

"Oh, it's you! Can I get you a drink, Commander Cullen?" a masked woman approached.

"No, thank you," he answered. She didn't budge.

Another woman stepped beside him. "Smile, Commander. You're so handsome when you smile."

"He's just as handsome when he doesn't," came a retort from a nearby man with a pointed mask.

_Ugh, Maker have mercy! Will I have to endure this party nonsense all night?_

**'.'.'**

Silvia approached the blonde-haired boy, leaning over the banister of the library, overlooking the party. "Cole? Are you all right? What are you doing?"

The youth watched the party below with unfocused eyes and somber expression. "I helped unil they made me stop. Now they've all forgotten."

"You seem distracted. More than usual," Silvia frowned, giving a light pat on the shoulder. She had to admit, Cole appeared rather strange without his wide-brimmed hat. The enormous hat usually hid his messy golden hair that spilled down over his eyes in disarray.

Cole's eyes darted to the marbled floor while his fingers twisted the tips of his gloves. "Cullen is afraid. They're hunting him, following fear. He shouldn't be here."

"Is there a way to help him?"

Closing his eyes, the blonde boy's expression relaxed. Cole's mind concentrated, listening for thoughts. "Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels quite stronger when you hold him... I hope that helps."

She stood in silence for a minute, thinking on the words. A low chime rang in the distance- the bell that signaled for the guests to return to the main room. "Thank you, Cole," the Inquisitor nodded, flashing a smile,"You have been helpful, as always."

**'.'.'**

"Are you married, Commander?" the lady asked.

"Not yet, but I am... already taken," he replied, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"So, still single then," she tittered to the other masked nobles. Cullen's smile fled, realizing that the statement hadn't deterred any of them.

Silvia had returned to the ballroom, gracefully weaving through the crowd as she approached.

"Inquisitor! Did you need something?"  _Please need something!_

"You've attracted quite the following. Who are all these people?" Silvia asked giving sideways glances to the flock of people that had encroached on the Commander's personal space.

"I don't know, but they won't leave me alone." Sighing in exasperation, he rubbed his temple hoping to relieve some of the building tension.

She gave a slight close-lipped smile while raising an eyebrow. "Not enjoying the attention, then?"

Cullen scoffed. "Hardly. Anyway, yours-" he paused, clearing his throat. He moved to her- so close that he could feel her breath- and skimmed the back of his fingers down her cheek before continuing in a hushed tone, "Yours is the only attention worth having."

Blushing with a growing smile, her eyes fluttered to the floor. Her reaction made Cullen's heart skip.

"I don't suppose you'd save a dance for me?"

"No. Thank you," the Commander responded without hesitation.

"Oh." Silvia's expression fell.

"No! I didn't mean to- Oh, Maker's breath. I've answered that question so many times I'm turning it down automatically," he exclaimed, scratching his head and glancing away, "I'm not much for dancing. The templars never attended balls."

The Inquisitor gave a nod and a smile. "I need to check out the servant quarters. We'll talk later."

"I await your signal. Be careful." He watched as the elf sauntered back through the crowd until she melded into the crowd.

_Please, for Andraste's sake... and mine, be careful._


	10. A Wicked Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is forced to fight in a duel to the death at the Winterpalace Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this is a short little chapter to let you all know I'm working on this fic again. I promise to reupload the chapter when I have the rest of it, but for right now, here's this. I promise there's a purpose to this scene.

"I would love to hear your harrowing tales from Kirkwall, Commander."

  
"Another time, perhaps." He groaned internally. _One more memory I would rather not stir up..._

  
"A drink, courtesy of Angélique Diane Courtemanche of Ghislain," an elf servant said flatly, handing him a champagne glass halfway filled with a thick crimson-black liquid.

  
Grasping the delicate stem so tight he thought it might shatter, Cullen immediately poured it into a nearby houseplant, while his admirers exploded in laughter.

  
He placed the empty flute on the serving platter with a heavy clink and spoke forcing a polite tight-lipped smile, "Tell her thank you."

  
Giving a quick nod, the elf pivoted on his heel and strode off. Cullen sighed, crossing his arms, and shifted his weight to his other foot. I swear that is the fifth time tonight someone has tried to slip me a drink.

  
"Cullen! Commander Cullen Rutherford!"

  
His mind was brought to the present at the use of his full name and title. Movement caught the corner of his eye. Josephine, with frustration crinkling her brows, weaved through the crowd at a brisk pace. "There is a... situation that I... must bring to your attention. I... need... a favor," she paused, panting to catch her breath.

  
"Ah, there you are!" a man with a golden jewel-adorned mask, swaggered up to them. He doffed his wide-brimmed Orlsian hat with an absurdly large feather. Cullen couldn't help but notice that the stranger's flashy attire of a sparkling silver coat, needlessly bejeweled pants, and pointed shoes with random gold buckles on every inch of his person.

  
"Commander, this-" the Antivan diplomat started, but the red-cheeked man shushed her with the dismissive wave of his hand.

  
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Arellio Thurman Delacruz of the wonderful and beautiful city of Serault," the man said, giving a bow and continued, "Your knife-ear Lavellan is the loveliest of all the elven women I have ever laid eyes on. I must have her for myself. The other elven women I had do not even compare to your lovely Inquisitor. I sent generous offers and letters to the Inquisition with no answer. Perhaps they were intercepted or perhaps they went... ignored," Arellio paused, giving Josephine a half-smile and a sideways glance before adding, "Which leaves me no choice. I must have an answer tonight, and I won't take no for an answer."

  
The ex-templar scoffed, "What makes you think the Inquisitor would agree to this?"

  
"She won't need to, because the arrangement will be in writing from the Inquisition."

  
The commander's narrowed eyes shifted to the diplomat, and the muscles in his face tightened. "Josephine, what was this 'favor' you mentioned earlier?" he growled through gritted teeth.

  
"I know your mad, but let me explain. The Inquisitor has attracted the attention of countless suitors, that is no secret. This one, however, is... extremely persistent," Josiphine paused, dropping her gaze, and played with the hems on her sleeve, "I may have told him that... he had to best you to a duel in order for me to consider the arrangement, but it was the easiest way I could save the Inquisitor from this cretin."

  
Cullen threw a glance over his shoulder at the man that was, at that moment, chugging a whole bottle of Orlesian wine. "Oh, alright," he groaned rubbing his temples, "But only because I would rather die than see the Inquisitor stuck with that drunken lecher!" He turned to the noble, "I accept your challenge."

  
"Excceeelent!" Arellio slurred. Releasing the bottle, it crashed onto the marble in a million pieces. "Meet me in the courtyard."

  
Together, the three made their way to the gardens. Two shortswords, stuck in the ground several feet apart, waited for them.The cool night air felt like a blessing against Cullen's face. Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead, and his swelting hot suit wasn't helping. 

 

Arellio yanked his sword from the dirt and stumbled back a few steps. "Now, let us duel... to the death!"

  
The ex-templar blinked. "Wait, what?"

  
"For the Inquisitor!" the man bellowed, pointing his wavering sword at Cullen.

  
"I highly recommend that you don't kill him," Josephine cautioned, "He is a well-liked noble among the Orlesians. Besides, the Inquisition doesn't need more enemies."

  
He rubbed the nape of his neck, laughing under his breath at the absurdity of the situation."This is a duel to the death, and I'm the only one allowed to die? How is this fair?"

  
Lunging forward, which appeared more like stumbling, the noble thrust his sword attempting to run Cullen through. The man staggered past him- stabbing a rosebush instead.

  
"Stand still, you coward!"

  
"I am!" Cullen had yet to pick up his sword, and several party attendee's had gathered to view the sight.

  
Retrieving his sword from the shrub, he staggered backward, giving another slurred battle cry, "For the Inquisitor!" Arellio swung high at Cullen's unflinching face, missing by a mile, and watched bleary-eyed as his sword slipped from his loose grasp, sailing over the garden wall gracefully with a swoosh.

  
"This is ridiculous," growled the ex-templar, marching up to him wearing a scowl. The drunken man gave one last incoherent battle cry before Cullen yanked him by the collar, wrapping his arms into a chokehold around Arellio's neck. Kicking and swinging his arms futilely, the noble succumbed to unconsciousness within moments. The small audience applauded.

  
The commander dropped him unceremoniously, plopping to the ground with a thud. A chime of bells began to ring, and the crowd headed back inside.  
Josephine approached, a pleased grin spreading on her face."We need to return to the ballroom. What should we do with him?" She nodded to the Arellio, sprawled out on the ground, and tapped him a few times with the toe of her shoe.

  
"Leave him be. Just... don't tell Leliana, please? She is still teasing me for falling for one of Sera's pranks and the last thing I need is-" Cullen watched as Joephine's gaze traveled upward and followed her eyes.

  
Leliana, waving from the window, shouted down, "Impressive show you put on, Commander!"

  
She had seen the whole thing. _Maker's breath... This is the worst party I've ever attended._ That wasn't saying much, since he had only attended a few gatherings here and there. Rubbing his face, he let out a muffled groan before following Josie inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much those who read, kudos, subbed, commented, and enjoyed this fic. I can't tell you enough how much it means to me. I promise to start writing this fic a bit more regularly now that other things are out of the way.


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